When we ponder death, we console ourselves with the knowledge that we weren’t around 40, 50, 80 years prior and were not then troubled by that prevailing oblivion. Why, then, should future oblivion bedevil us? The poet Philip Larkin, among … Continue reading A poem about Max Scherzer’s 1926 funeral Mass in Chicago and a brief and frankly daft philosophical essay addressing why there’s such thing as a poem about the 1926 Chicago funeral Mass of Max Scherzer, who in reality is thankfully alive and well and was born in 1984